


All’s Mad in Love and War

by Cydersyrup



Series: Mad Intelligence [1]
Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Attempt at Humor, Crack, Crack Relationships, Domestic Disputes, Family Dynamics, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage Counseling, Married Couples, Non-Graphic Violence, Swearing, Violence, a lot of dumb decisions are made, but only slightly - Freeform, but with weapons and involving the entire family, he really does, jisung's just trying his best, johnny tries, mark suffers a lot, so much crack, teeny bit of past angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cydersyrup/pseuds/Cydersyrup
Summary: “See, this is why working with married people sucks!” Johnny wails.Mark ducks just in time for a knife to sail over his head and stab the wall behind him. “Johnny, YOU’RE married! Your husband is standing RIGHT FUCKING THERE—”There’s the sound of a gunshot, and Johnny pulls Mark down behind an upturned bench before either one of them can get hit. “At least I don’t try to murder my husband at every meeting we have, though!” he yells.'Mental note,' Mark thinks as a bullet punches a hole two centimeters away from his head. 'Never leave marriage counseling to Johnny.'
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta, Lee Taeyong/Qian Kun, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Series: Mad Intelligence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715650
Comments: 134
Kudos: 581





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Insomnia and an overactive imagination birthed this...whatever it is.  
> I'm a sucker for agent au's with NCT, so I thought, why not? (OvO)  
> Inspired by @n_ikuman on twitter  
> Some technical terms may be incorrect bc I actually don't know how a lot of weapons work, so please forgive me for that.  
> Hope you enjoy!!!

The only thing arguably worse than being shot point-blank is getting shot point-blank in the balls.

Mark wouldn’t know this, because he’s the one who fired the shot, but it sure did look painful when the man before him sank to his knees, hands clutching at his bleeding genitals. 

“Ouch. That’s gotta hurt, man.” Mark walks past the screaming man and picks up a stone vase from the grand lounge table. “Need some help with that?”

“You FUCKER!” the man at his feet screeches, eyes bloodshot and face twisted in pain. Blood drips past his hands and stains the white fabric of his slacks a bright, cherry red.

Mark shrugs. He’s heard worse insults from Donghyuck on a regular basis, and he didn’t even need to shoot the younger for it. “Hey, if you’d just give me what I want, we wouldn’t be here now, dude.”

“Fuck you…”

“No, thanks. I only fuck people with functioning dicks. Real generous of you to offer, though.”

There’s a glass display case of expensive antique weapons along the walls of the lounge, and Mark smashes the vase through the one holding a pretty antique katana. The sword’s weight is soothing in his hold, and he unsheathes it carefully. As much as Mark would like to just shoot the guy between the eyes, it’d be such a waste to not practice his knife and sword skills. And this man has such pretty swords too.

“Do me a favor and stay still, alright?” Mark holds the katana with both hands, the blade poised right above the man’s hunched back. “It’ll hurt a lot less if you don’t move.”

“FUCK YOU!”

Mark sighs. _Why did he try to be nice to this asshole again?_

“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He swings the blade down in a strong, graceful arch, and the man’s head rolls across the hardwood floor, leaving a bloody trail behind. Mark kicks the head out of his way and flips the headless body over, grabbing the USB hidden in the guy’s inner jacket pocket.

“Fucking finally.”

 _‘Did you get it?’_ Taeil’s voice rings in his ear.

‘Yeah, hyung,’ Mark thinks back, before the sound of approaching footsteps alerts him of an incoming threat. He immediately plugs the small device into the small tablet hidden within his inner pocket. 

“Shit.”

 _‘Mark!’_ Taeil’s voice yells. _‘Get out! Get out now!’_

If anyone asks, Mark will one hundred percent blame Taeil for driving him to haul ass and jump out of the nearest window. The glass shatters against his body, and Mark feels the sharp ends cut through the exposed skin of his hands and wrists before gravity kicks in and a whole new world of dreadful sensation hits him like an oncoming train.

It’s more than a hundred stories down, over a thousand feet to fall, and Mark can barely open his eyes against the wind rushing against him. There is a very good chance he might die—no, a _certain_ chance that he might die—because Mark’s smart enough to not have a parachute—but anything beats getting caught by goons and gunned down.

He free-falls into the night, passing layers upon layers of blinking lights, his clothes billowing loosely in the air, and Mark’s memories play back in his mind, showing him his entire life in quick bursts. 

_‘So, this is what it feels like before you die.’_ Mark thinks. _‘It’s not so bad.’_ If he’s going to go down, the information in that little USB will go down with him, if Taeil hasn’t managed to somehow remotely transfer the data from his tablet to headquarters yet. So all in all, not too bad a way to go.

Somewhere between the 80th and 75th stories, Mark feels a familiar tingle at the back of his neck. It’s pleasant, like the feeling you get when you know your best friend is right behind you, and Mark knows in that moment that maybe he can wave goodbye to death for now.

Just maybe.

Mark is falling dangerously close to the ground now, and he counts back the seconds he has until his body will hit the pavement below and become sidewalk art. He barely gets the first two numbers down before a strong force slams into him midair, snapping his head to the side and making him dizzy. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” a voice yells past the wind and throbbing in his head. Mark takes a second to blink the stars out of his eyes before registering the lean arms wrapped around his midsection, holding him against an equally lean, but strong body.

“Doyoung-hyung!” Mark exclaims, grinning up at his senior as he wraps his arms around Doyoung’s waist. The elder shoots him a dirty glare in return.

“What the hell were you thinking, kid?”

“Uh…” Mark racks his brain for a viable excuse to explain why he just decided to yeet himself out of a window with no plan or gear to cushion his fall. Nothing comes up. Johnny is going to be so disappointed in him.

“I kinda...wasn’t?”

Doyoung scoffs. “See, that’s the problem.”

Mark chooses to ignore that comment. “How’d you find me, hyung?”

“You think you’re the only one able to track people?” Doyoung snorts, soaring past a skyscraper and making a narrow dodge around another one, his dark wings flattening nearly perfectly vertical as they barely managed to not smash into the glass walls.

Mark frowns, feeling slightly nauseous and betrayed that his position had been given away so easily. He’s usually very careful about not giving away his whereabouts, even to other members of their agency. Solo missions are usually just between him, Taeyong, and Taeil. The other agents didn’t need to know a thing about it, unless they’re established backup, which he’s pretty sure Doyoung is not.

“Who ratted me out?” Mark grumbles.

“Really, kid?”

“Just curious.”

Doyoung sighs. “Taeil noticed an irregular patten to your brainwaves. He thought you were gonna do something stupid, then started screaming and giving everyone a headache. So here I am, saving your sorry ass.”

“I thought you were still in Busan, hyung,” Mark says, frowning as he calculates the travel time between here and headquarters. “Last I heard from Taeyong, he said you still had business there.”

“Surprise,” Doyoung says drily.

“No, seriously, hyung.” Mark holds onto Doyoung tighter as they suddenly ascend, flying straight up, parallel to what is possibly the tallest skyscraper Mark has ever seen in his life. “How’d you even get here so—holy shit—so fast?”

“Don’t worry about that, Mark.”

“But hyung—”

Doyoung suddenly releases his hold, and Mark just about has a heart attack as the support from his back disappears and his body is being pulled down towards the ground as Doyoung races further up into the sky. He dangles off Doyoung’s body, hands clenching tightly to the thick fabric of the older man’s coat, the latter not fazed in the least as they continue to soar higher, higher, and higher. 

“Hyung!” Mark screams, feeling his hold on Doyoung slip the higher up they went. “Hyung, I swear to fuck, I’m gonna fall!”

“Just shut up.”

Mark shuts up, and Doyoung’s arms encircle him once again right as they reach the roof of the building. Doyoung lands gracefully, his wings retracting back towards his body, and he unceremoniously tosses Mark onto the concrete.

“Ow!” Mark staggers up, holding his aching head in his hands. “Hyung, what the fuck?”

“Get up, Mark,” Doyoung sighs, walking past him with a flap of his coat. “We have a meeting to attend here. You don’t want to keep the directors waiting.”

Right. Mark totally forgot about that. Though to be fair, he’s traveled to two different countries, shot and decapitated a man, and jumped out a window to his potential death in the span of twelve hours. A meeting with his boss has been quite low on his priority list for today.

“Are all the units gonna be there?” Mark asks as he tails Doyoung.

“Of course. This isn’t just 127’s issue we’re discussing, Mark. It’s NCT’s.”

“What’s wrong with the agency?”

“That’s what we’re gonna find out.”

Doyoung leads the way down from the roof, and Mark, still feeling adrenaline-hyped and a little winded, struggles to keep up with the senior agent’s rapid pace down the stairwell. For someone who’s carrying a set of wings on his back that weighs probably more than Mark does, Doyoung sure moves fast. 

They come to a stop a couple stories down, where a tall, formally-dressed young man is standing by the doors leading to the inside of the building. He notices Doyoung and Mark, and immediately stands even straighter, nodding at them both.

“Agent Kim, Agent Lee. The directors are waiting for you inside.”

“Send them our apologies for being late, Jisung,” Doyoung says, giving the boy’s hair a gentle ruffle. “Thanks for waiting up on us.”

Jisung visibly brightens at the praise as he lets Doyoung and Mark inside. “Yes! Of course, sir! May I take your equipment for you?”

“Of course, thank you.” Doyoung undos the clasps around his chest, and the large, majestic wings immediately fold and retract until a sleek black container no bigger than a backpack rests on his shoulders. He slips it off easily and hands it to Jisung, who grunts at the sudden and surprising weight. The youngest marvels over the device for a brief moment before turning to Mark, eyes filled with admiration. 

“Was your mission successful, Agent Lee? How did it go?”

Mark laughs. Jisung is always so cute when he addresses them by their formal titles and watches them with so much awe. Small wonder why everyone in the agency dotes on the rookie agent, himself included.

“Yeah, it went alright, Jisung.” 

“Did anything explode?”

“Nah, but I shot a dude in the balls.”

Jisung winces, his free hand instinctively covering the front of his own pants. “Ouch.”

Mark laughs at the younger’s reaction and reaches over to give Jisung a pat on the head. “Yeah, it looked painful.”

“I’ll bet. Wait. Hyu—Agent Lee, you’re bleeding,” Jisung observes, pointing to thin trails of blood along Mark’s hands and wrists. “What happened to you?”

“Oh.” Mark didn’t even notice when the cuts started to bleed. They’re all shallow, and don’t even hurt much anymore. “May or may not have jumped out a window.”

“From a thousand feet up,” Doyoung adds, slapping Mark on the shoulder (“Ow, hyung!”). “You can tell the directors that’s why we’re late, Jisung.”

Jisung looks perplexed, but nods obediently as they arrive before a thick set of opaque glass doors. He stretches out a hand, letting the sensor against the wall scan his palm, and the doors slide open, revealing a large office with a long table. Clusters of men are sitting around it, and Mark catches the gaze of Lee Taeyong from across the room, the latter’s eyes sharp and inquiring.

“Chief Director Lee,” Jisung greets with a bow, setting the equipment in his hands aside before making his way to Taeyong’s side. Mark and Doyoung round the room and take the only empty seats left at their side of the table. “Apologies for the delay, sir. Agents Kim and Lee ran late because Agent Lee jumped out a window.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows shoot up into his snowy bangs and his head snaps so fast towards Mark it cracks. Everyone is staring at him now, and Mark feels his cheeks starting to warm from all the attention. From across the table, he can see Johnny gently thunk his forehead against his fist in exasperation. Even Donghyuck looks surprised, and he’s done more damning things than Mark has. By a long, _long_ shot.

“Is that so?” Taeyong sighs tiredly, reaching a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Care to explain, Agent Lee?”

Mark shrinks at all the attention diverted towards him, wanting to just escape the varying levels of judgement and concern in those many pairs of eyes. Especially Doyoung and Taeyong’s. “Not particularly, sir.”

A chuckle rings over the silence, and everyone turns towards the source of the laughter. Yukhei is grinning broadly, barely concealing his obvious delight with his fist. “I’m sorry,” he wheezes, before breaking out into another fit of giggles. “That was too precious.”

“What?” Mark feels irritation prick at his insides. It’s not that he has anything personal against the Hong Kong agent, but he literally saw his life flash before his eyes tonight (twice), and Yukhei has the gall to laugh. The _nerve_ of him. 

“You honestly find my near-demise funny, Wong?” Mark snaps, and his voice comes out harsher than he expects, if the surprised looks all around the table are any indication. Mark almost never loses his temper. He’s usually a lot more composed under pressure, and he has been more composed in launching himself through a solid wall of glass and into open air than he is at this moment, glaring down Yukhei as the latter continues to giggle at him.

“Sorry.” Yukhei breaks off laughing with a cough. “Rough week. That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a while.”

Mark bristles at the comment, because contrary to what Yukhei might think, almost dying is NOT funny. It’s terrifying, and Mark had to experience it twice in one night, with one time being at the hands of his own teammate. And Yukhei has the fucking gall to _laugh_?

“What are you, crazy?” Mark growls. “Is death that funny to you?”

Yukhei doesn’t back down, and seems even more amused than before. His lips pull back further, flashing his teeth in an unabashed grin. Mark can see the sharp titanium canines even from across the long table.

“I speak only the truth, Lee,” Yukhei drawls, shooting him a wink. “When have I ever lied to you?”

Mark stands up, ignoring the hand Doyoung and Donghyuck each wrap around his wrists in warning. “Listen here, Wong—”

“ _Agent Lee_.” Taeyong taps his hand against the table, the subtle action barely loud enough to catch Mark’s attention. The chief director’s gaze is icy and resolute, the taut line of his lips showing more disappointment than anger. "I'd thank you to take a seat."

Mark calms himself and sits back down without another word towards Yukhei. Pissing off Taeyong is never a good idea. Not if he wants to keep his job and possibly his life. "Sorry, sir."

Taeyong sighs softly through his nose and turns his attention to the honey-haired, gentle-faced man sitting two seats away from Yukhei. Their eyes meet, and it’s like a moment in a movie when a streak of lightning passes a message from one end to another. The man with the golden hair sighs as Taeyong’s eyes narrow at him, resignation all over his features.

“You’ve grown soft, Kun,” Taeyong says, sweeping his gaze past the director of the China branch to Yukhei. “Your agents seem to have come to the point of thinking that the near-loss of one of our own is amusing. Any lesser man would think they’ve gone wild.”

Kun smiles, and the gesture is exactly like him—calm, kind, and deadly. Mark gulps as the Chinese director shifts his gaze from Taeyong’s to stare directly at him.

“Well, Chief Director,” Kun begins, voice smooth as butter as he leans forward on the table. “I apologize on behalf of Yukhei.” He shoots a brief glance towards said agent, and Yukhei visibly stiffens in his seat. Mark usually would feel smug about the reaction, until Kun’s suddenly staring at him, and all he can think of is: _‘Shit.’_

“It’s true, I’ve loosened my leash on my agents,” Kun continues, voice carefully controlled and calm. He shifts his eyes over to Taeyong, and a small smile passes over his lips as he stares down the Chief Director. “But then again, my boys know well enough to not jump out a window to their deaths.”

Taeyong’s eyes narrow into slits. “My agents are prepared for any type of emergency, including potential risky escapes. That’s why we always have our recoups on standby to assist.”

Kun’s smile is unwavering as he and Taeyong match glares. “Now, I’m sure more competent agents wouldn’t have to resort to recoup agents, now would they?”

“And I presume that explains why your division has the highest injury rates out of all of our branches,” Taeyong retorts. “So it appears recroup agents prove to be quite useful in the field.”

“If those agents even get themselves into situations requiring recoup, I’m sure they are.”

“Which, if I remember correctly, our division has the lowest count for. But your division—”

“Uh…” Mark turns to Doyoung, the latter looking equal parts confused and amused. “Hyung... is this meeting really just for us to sit here and listen to the directors argue over our stats?”

Doyoung snorts. “Well, technically it’s your fault, kid.”

“Wh—how is this my fault?” Mark splutters.

“You’re the one who jumped out of the window,” Donghyuck supplies unhelpfully. “That’s either the bravest or dumbest thing you’ve done so far, hyung.”

“Oh, shut up.” Mark huffs. “Did I really evade death twice just to hear Taeyong and Kun fight? Again?”

Doyoung nods in agreement, watching the pandemonium unfold with concern and interest. “This is insanity.”

“This is politics,” Donghyuck hums, looking equally entertained. Mark feels a tingly urge to punch both of them in the face.

 _'What’s going on?’_ Taeil’s confused voice quips from Mark’s earpiece.

“Trust me, hyung, you don’t wanna know.”

Taeil is silent for a while. _‘They’re fighting again, aren’t they?’_

“Yep.”

The argument between the regional directors have escalated to the point of both men standing up now, hurling insults at each other from across the table. On Taeyong’s side, Jungwoo and Jisung are trying to gently coax the man to sit back down. On the other end, Ten and Sicheng are both holding back Kun, with the shorter of the two senior agents keeping the director’s hands as far away from his pockets as possible.

“So if you think you can just degrade the years I’ve invested in my agents—”

“Your agents? I scouted them all, Kun! It was all my work!” Taeyong roars back.

“Then you just dumped them to me to train, because you can’t take the pressure!”

“ _I_ can’t take the pressure? Without me, your division would be nothing!”

“My division is the core to the broader success of this agency and you KNOW it!”

“Oh, well that’s debatable—”

Jisung waves frantically, trying to catch Taeyong's attention. “Sir, please sit down!”

“Kun-ge, hands off the knife! Off!” 

“No, leave me be, Ten. If he wants to challenge my abilities, I’ll gladly demonstrate them!”

“Chief Director, please put down the gun!” Jungwoo yelps, grabbing Taeyong's arm before the elder can raise said gun at Kun's head. "Can we all please just talk it out?"

“Let go of me, Jungwoo—”

“Sir, you’re gonna shoot someone in the face—”

“You stay out of this, Yuta!”

“ENOUGH!” Johnny shoots up from his seat and slams his hands down onto the table. “Jesus fucking Christ, we’re all grown men here! It’s damn near 1 AM and I WANT TO GO HOME!” 

The silence that follows Johnny’s outburst is enough to hear a pin drop, and all eyes are on the North American director as he stretches out his arms and points to both Taeyong and Kun.

“You sit down! And you sit down!”

Taeyong frowns. “But Johnny—”

“Director Seo—”

“NO!” Johnny yells, pointing his fingers towards the ground. “Put the weapons away and SIT. THE FUCK. DOWN!”

Taeyong and Kun both sit without another word. Johnny heaves a sigh and runs a hand through his neatly-styled hair.

“Alright, now that we’re all civil and not about to kill each other—” he glares at Taeyong and Kun. “—let’s get to the agenda. We have a problem with internal relations.”

Taeyong shoots Kun a distasteful glare. “And who started this problem?”

Kun sneers back. "With your reputation? I'll make a safe bet on that one."

"Have you not read any of your division's incident reports?"

"I can't seem to find them past the mountain of reports from 127."

"Maybe if you—"

_BANG!_

"Cover!" Yukhei hollers, before diving under the table.

"Shit." Mark abandons his chair and follows suit as pandemonium erupts over the hard-won silence, the senior agents making a mad scramble for Johnny before he loses his shit completely and shoots Taeyong and Kun for real.

Everyone knows Johnny to be the most reasonable of the three directors, but it still takes the combined strength of Jaehyun, Yuta, and Jungwoo to wrestle the guns out of Johnny’s hands. Mark rolls his eyes as he sits crouched under the table, Doyoung’s knee digging into his side and Donghyuck’s elbow hovering dangerously close to his face. It’s not the most dignified position to be in, and certainly not the most comfortable, but if there’s one thing Johnny can best every other person in the room in, it’s marksmanship.

Hiding under the table out of immediate range of the bullets is, in Mark’s opinion, the smartest move he’s made all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does one marriage? (o_o)  
> Thanks for reading!! I really hope y'all had fun with this crackfest! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!  
> Hmu w/ any q's or if you'd just like to chat!  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/Cydersyrup)  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/Cydersyrup)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bring thee more crack, bc writing proper english essays sucks and I have no self-control (>v<)

“THIS is the fucking problem?” Mark stares incredulously at the men sparring in their training dome. “Johnny flew all the way here from the States, had the directors call a meeting with all active agents, and had us all sit through one of Taeyong’s shit fits with Kun...for THIS?”

Doyoung looks up from where he’s lacing up his combat boots. “What about this?”

“Hyung, we do this every day,” Mark huffs, picking up the bo staff lying on the ground by his feet. “What’s so special about another sparring session?”

Doyoung stands up, his knees cracking loudly with the motion. “Johnny has his reasons, Mark. You should know.”

“We were discussing an issue with internal relations two nights ago, what does it have to do with our training regimes?”

“Let’s find out.” Doyoung grabs Mark by the ear, making the younger yelp, and drags him over to the middle of the sparring arena, ignoring the boy’s curses and protests. Another group of agents are standing around the main arena, stretching and waiting their turn in the circle. Johnny stands with his back turned towards everyone, watching the current sparring match with interest. Jaehyun stands by his side, idly sharpening the knife in his hands.

“Director Seo,” Doyoung greets politely, offering a bow as Johnny turns toward them. He slaps Mark’s back, motioning for him to do the same.

Mark grumbles a curse under his breath but bows anyway. “Sir.”

Johnny smiles, kind and gentle. “You both can stop with the whole title thing. Seriously. It makes me feel old.” He undoes and redos the white hand wraps covering his knuckles. “Take your time to stretch, gentlemen. We’re gonna be here a while.”

“Johnny,” Mark starts, dropping all formalities the moment English is used. “Why the hell did you bring us all here?”

The director laughs and ruffles Mark’s hair fondly. “You’ll have to wait and see, Markie.”

“Come on, what’re you up to, dude?”

Johnny pulls his hand back and fixes the wrapping one more time. “If you’re really curious, I guess you can think of it as a...team bonding activity.” 

“What?” Mark leans to the side slightly to watch the match in the ring. “Bonding? With who? Who’s even sparring now?”

“Yuta and Ten.”

Doyoung’s head perks up at the name. “Yuta?” He excuses himself from Johnny’s presence and heads to the edge of the circle, cupping his hands around his mouth before yelling at the top of his lungs.

“YUTA! KICK HIS ASS, BABY!”

Yuta dodges a punch from Ten and barely glances over at Doyoung before having to dodge the speedy little demon again. “I’m TRYING, honey!” He sweeps his leg under Ten, who cartwheels away easily. Yuta aims a kick at the Thai agent, but Ten sidesteps and aims a punch at Yuta’s side, which the latter counters and retaliates with his own. 

Eventually, Ten maneuvers himself past Yuta’s flurry of kicks and punches and gets close enough to grab Yuta’s arm. With a surprising amount of strength, he lifts and judo-throws Yuta over his shoulder, pinning him to the mat afterwards.

“I win, Nakamoto.” Ten grins, patting Yuta’s shoulder good-naturedly. “Too bad you can’t impress your hubby now, huh?”

Yuta laughs breathily, taking the hand Ten offers and letting himself get pulled up. “He’s married to me. If that isn’t impressive by default, I don’t know what is.”

“Disgusting.”

“You only say that ‘cause you’re depressingly single.”

“Shut up, Nakamoto.”

They walk off the arena, with Yuta immediately making his way by Doyoung’s side and Ten squeezing easily into the little huddle of agents to cool off.

Mark turns from the scene before him to the closest person, who just happens to be Jaehyun. “Hyung, what are we even doing here?”

Jaehyun shrugs, juggling the sharpened knife between his hands. “Dunno. John—Director Seo said he’ll brief us once everyone’s here.”

Mark looks around. “But...most of us are here already.” All the field agents, that is. “Who are we waiting for?”

“Johnny!”

 _'Ah.’_ Mark feels his shoulders tense. _‘That’s who we’re waiting for.’_

Taeyong strides up to the group, his movements a lot more fluid in track pants and a tank top than a crisp suit and tie. He eyes each agent in turn as they all bow to him, before sweeping his gaze to Johnny.

“I hope you have a good reason for making us all clear our schedules for the day,” Taeyong deadpans, shooting Johnny an unamused glare. “I can’t leave all the mission briefings to Taeil, he’ll give himself an aneurysm.”

Johnny laughs lightly. “Ah, he’ll be fine. Weren’t you going to make him a regional director too before he took over IT?”

Taeyong nods stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest. “But still, my responsibilities are mine. Nobody else should be shouldering what I can do on my own.”

“Which appears to be not a lot,” a new voice pipes. Mark feels his shoulders starting to cramp from how tense his muscles are becoming. Kun steps into view, decked in full workout gear with Yukhei and Sicheng trailing behind him. He greets Johnny with a pearly smile and exchanges niceties with the present agents, before turning to Taeyong, his gentle smile immediately curling into something more unforgiving.

“Fancy seeing you actually caring enough about activities outside the narrow confines of pushing paperwork, Chief Director.” Kun says the title like it’s poison, and Taeyong visibly vibrates from anger.

“Uh-oh.” Mark steps behind Jaehyun, nudging the senior agent forward. “Hyung, protect me. I’m too young to die.”

Jaehyun stiffens and tries to back away from the two ticking time bombs. “That’s not fair,” he complains. “I’m only two years older than you!”

“Okay, before anyone gets any ideas,” Johnny says, stepping between Kun and Taeyong with his arms outstretched in a T-pose. “I’m not going to tolerate any bloodshed here. Mark, for the love of god, stop using Jaehyun as a shield.”

Mark steps away, feeling a little embarrassed at being called out. “Sorry.”

“Gentlemen,” Johnny begins, shifting his gaze from Taeyong to Kun and back to Taeyong. “I’ve gathered you all here to resolve our internal relations conflict. We’re going to hold team exercises today to strengthen our trust and communication with each other.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard from him,” Mark groans quietly. 

Jaehyun shrugs. “I mean, it could be worse.”

“So, I’ve arranged for us to have pair sparring, 2-on-2,” Johnny continues. “The teams are already set up, and it’s just going to be a chill day, alright?” His eyes narrow as he looks between the other two directors. “ _Chill_. Therapeutic. Let-out-steam day.”

Taeyong sighs, unimpressed. “Johnny, is this your way of giving us relationship therapy?”

“You know what, yes,” Johnny says in all seriousness. “Yes, it fucking is. And you know why? Because I can’t stand the sight of you—” He points at Taeyong. “—and you—” He points at Kun. “Trying to murder each other every single time we call an agency meeting! I don’t know what’s messing you both up, but this needs to be fixed!”

Kun arches an eyebrow. “And you’re suggesting a spar is the best way for reconciliation.”

“Exactly.” Johnny claps his hands in delight. “And you both are on the same team.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yes! And your first opponents are—” Johnny rakes his eyes over the group of agents before him like he’s picking out meat at a butcher’s. Everyone visibly shrinks, not wanting to fall victim to the wrath of not one, not two, but two dysfunctional, murderous, unhappily-married directors.

“—Jaehyun and Mark.”

“Holy shit, it just got worse.” Jaehyun drops his face into his palm. Mark has never related to another person on such a spiritual level before. All the other agents are looking at them with sheer pity in their eyes, mouthing silent encouragement. The urge to kick Johnny where it hurts burns strong though Mark’s body, and the only thing that he feels stronger at this moment is the need to run as far away from this place as possible. And judging by the barely-concealed grimace on Jaehyun’s face, he’s probably thinking the same thing.

Kun stares at the two mentioned agents appraisingly. “You both trained under Director Seo,” he notes.

“Yes, sir.”

“I always appreciate young talent. Well then,” Kun smiles warmly, giving both Jaehyun and Mark a gentle pat on the shoulder. “What brings you both here to work under the white witch?”

Mark sputters, trying to come up with any sort of retort that won’t end up with him fired or dead. Jaehyun just sighs and glares at Johnny, who looks ready to intervene.

“I see.” Kun backs away slightly before either agent can reply. “Well, I’m excited to gauge your competence.”

Taeyong scoffs, shoving past Kun. “Of course they’re competent. They’re my agents.”

Jaehyun raises a hand. “Well, technically I—”

“Then, Chief Director, I’ll raise my standards by just that much.” Kun holds his thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart. “Considering that Agent Lee here did throw himself out a window on your watch.”

Mark feels his heart sink. He really didn’t need to be reminded of that one lapse of judgement, thank you very much.

“Just don’t get in my way,” Taeyong growls, eyes burning a hole through Kun’s head. “And nobody here will sustain any life-threatening injuries.”

“No, no life-threatening injuries!” Johnny cuts in, pushing the two directors apart. “We’re doing this the good old-fashioned way. No weapons, no gimmicks, just a physical spar. First team to pin both members of the other team wins. I expect cooperation.”

Taeyong jerks a thumb over at Kun. “You expect too much, Johnny.”

“Well, you can’t blame him,” Kun retorts. “High expectations are essential to success. It’s why you stole Agent Lee, isn’t it?”

Mark wants to hide in the nearest hole and die. “Please leave me out of this,” he mumbles, voice going unheard as tensions escalated. Taeyong and Kun are now barely a foot apart, one glaring mad and the other snidely calm.

“You honestly think I need to do that to ensure my success?”

Kun cocks his head. “Well, clearly nothing else has worked.”

“How dare you—”

“STOP!” Johnny grabs them both by the face, shoving them back to arm’s-length apart. “Don’t make me shoot you both. I can and I will.”

Yukhei raises a hand. “Should I call a medic?”

“Yes!” Jaehyun and Mark chorus the same time Taeyong snarls, “No.”

“So yes.” Yukhei turns and pulls out his phone, making a few quick statements in Cantonese before turning back to the group. “Kunhang’s on his way here.”

“Alright then.” Johnny lets go of Kun and Taeyong, gesturing at the arena. “Can we please play nice now? Seriously, what’s _with_ you two? You honestly expect to lead a team of intelligence agents when you can’t even keep your own lives in check? God.”

Taeyong and Kun have the decency to look a little guilty, and all previous hostilities dissolve under Johnny’s disapproving stare. 

After a moment of silence, Taeyong sighs. “Fine, Johnny. Let’s see if your exercise works.” Without another word, he trudges into the arena.

Johnny visibly relaxes, and gestures to the bench holding everyone’s equipment. “Weapons away, gentlemen. Please head to the ring.”

Kun calmly takes off his coat and sets it onto the bench, revealing the black windbreaker he’s wearing underneath.

“Let’s hope for the best, Director Seo.”

Johnny nods and returns Kun’s tight-lipped smile. “Let’s.”

Mark turns to glare at Johnny as he and Jaehyun pass by after discarding their own weapons. “I hate you, Johnny.”

Johnny shrugs. “Hey, I’m just trying to help. And you can’t hate me. I raised you.”

“So why’re you sending me to die?” Mark hisses, flipping Johnny the bird when the elder merely turns away.

“Everyone ready?” Doyoung calls from the side of the arena, arm raised and ready to officiate the match.

Mark turns to Jaehyun as they both stand facing the two directors a couple meters away. “It’s been nice knowing you, hyung. Take care of Johnny then kill him for me when I’m gone.”

“Back at you,” Jaehyun murmurs, taking on a fighting stance. 

Johnny stands with Doyoung a distance away, watching them intently. Mark swears that if he gets out of this alive, he’s never agreeing to anything Johnny says ever again.

“Begin!”

For a moment, neither team moves, and then in a split second, faster than Mark can process, both Kun and Taeyong are charging him and Jaehyun. Mark yelps and dives out of the way of Taeyong’s fist as Jaehyun dodges a kick to the face by Kun.

 _'Hell no,’_ Mark thinks frantically as he blocks another kick and swings back with a punch. Taeyong is seasoned in close combat and known for his physical prowess, and while Mark doesn’t consider himself too shabby in comparison, he knows where his strengths and weaknesses are. And as of the moment, he knows he’ll be a lot stronger if he can just get some distance between him and Taeyong.

“You know,” Taeyong shouts as he somersaults under Mark’s kick. “I thought you’d make some progress already, Kun!”

“Rich, coming from you,” Kun bites back, grabbing Jaehyun’s wrist as the latter tries to punch him. “Back in the day you can take out anyone under seven seconds. You’re out of practice, Chief Director.”

Taeyong snarls, and Mark feels in that moment a fear that he’s never even dreamt of feeling. Jumping out a window to his impending death feels like a vacation compared to the mind-numbing fear coursing in him right now as he stares back into Taeyong’s furious eyes.

Then, quicker than he can react, Mark feels himself being grabbed by Taeyong and thrown over a bony shoulder, his back coming into contact with the mat hard as the director looms over him, hand poised over Mark’s hyoid. The look in Taeyong’s eyes is pure fury, but Mark knows well enough by this point that the anger is not for him.

“Get up.”

Mark scrambles to his feet immediately, noticing Jaehyun pick himself up off the floor and Kun dusting off his hands a couple meters away.

“Sixteen seconds, Taeyong,” Kun smirks. “Either Johnny trained him too well or you’re out of shape.”

Taeyong’s arms flex in anger, his veins prominent against his pale skin as he steps closer to Kun. “Is that a challenge I hear?”

“It’s merely an observation.”

It’s Taeyong’s turn to smirk now. “Oh, I see. Afraid of getting a little physical, are we?”

Kun arches a brow defiantly. “Don’t start fights you can’t win, Chief Director.”

“I can win anything I want, if I want it.”

Before Mark can even comprehend what just happened, all hell breaks loose. Both Kun and Taeyong dash off the arena and make a beeline towards the bench and equipment wall. Kun has four knives in each hand and is chucking them with startling accuracy towards Taeyong, who is just as effective at dodging and hitting the blades away with his bo staff.

“RUN!” Yukhei yells as all the remaining agents scatter. Johnny stands watching the fight, face shell-shocked and hands reaching behind him to his pistols.

“Don’t shoot!” Jaehyun screams, sprinting full-speed at Johnny from across the arena. “Stop! Johnny, don’t do it! You might hit Doyoung and Yuta!”

“What?” Johnny whips his head around, finally noticing the couple maneuvering around the arena to the center, where Kun and Taeyong are now duking it out in earnest. “What the hell are they doing?”

“What does it look like they’re doing?”

“Besides being stupid?”

Jaehyun shoots Johnny an incredulous stare before throwing his hands up and running off towards the equipment wall. “Forget it! I’m going to make sure nobody gets hurt!”

“Jaehyun!”

“Director!” Doyoung yells in alarm as Kun pulls out another array of knives from within his coat. The senior agent reaches for his waist, unfurling his belt, which Mark just notices isn’t a belt at all, but a long, coiled whip. With one smooth swing, the whip latches itself around Taeyong’s waist and Doyoung just barely manages to pull him out of the way as three knives lodge themselves on the floor where Taeyong was standing a second ago.

Two more knives fly in their direction, and Yuta immediately drop-kicks a thermos, the metal of the bottle clanging noisily with the knives as it throws the weapons off their trajectory.

“Get the director away from here!” Doyoung shouts to Yuta.

Yuta nods, already moving to escort Taeyong away. “Alright! Sir—”

“You two stay out of this!” Taeyong yells, deflecting two more knives with a baton. “This is my issue to settle!”

Doyoung grips his hair in distress. “Sir, with all due respect, one of you might die!”

“That’s the fucking _point_ , Agent Kim!”

“Kun-ge, stop!” Sicheng appears out of nowhere and books it towards Kun, armed with what appears to be a cutting board. Mark wonders remotely where in the world Sicheng pulled that thing out of. “This is madness! That’s your husband!”

“Who, as you can see,” Kun grits out as he throws another knife. “I’m trying to kill.”

“Ge, that’s not how this works!”

“You’re not _married_ , Sicheng!”

“Do I need to be married to understand the seemingly pointless need to kill someone?” Sicheng raises the board to his face right as a knife impales itself in the thick wood. “You did that on purpose!” he shouts indignantly.

“Actually, that was me,” Doyoung hollers from across the arena. “Sorry, Sicheng! It would’ve hit the director otherwise!”

“Aim somewhere else, then!”

“WHERE, asshole?”

“The other way!”

“And what, kill my fucking husband?”

“First off, I resent that!” Yuta hollers from Doyoung’s other side. “And second, thanks, babe. That’s sweet.”

“See, this is why working with married people sucks!” Johnny wails.

Mark ducks just in time for a knife to sail over his head and stab the wall behind him. He raises an arm and points at Jaehyun, who stands in the arena hurling his own knives to counter the ones aimed at Taeyong. 

“Johnny, YOU’RE married! Your husband is standing RIGHT FUCKING THERE—”

There’s the sound of a gunshot, and Johnny pulls Mark down behind an upturned bench before either one of them can get hit. “At least _I_ don’t try to murder my husband at every meeting we have, though!” he yells.

 _'Mental note,'_ Mark thinks as a bullet punches a hole two centimeters away from his head. _‘Never leave marriage counseling to Johnny.’_

“Look, I respect you, Johnny. And not because you’re my boss, but this—” Mark gestures vaguely at the war zone unfolding before their eyes. “—what the _fuck_ , Johnny?”

“I thought maybe letting them get rid of some steam and have some collaborative exercises would help!” Johnny yells over another gunshot, before poking his head carefully over their cover and screaming at Jaehyun to get out of the range of fire.

“Your idea of a ‘collaborative exercise’ was a spar!”

“That counts, doesn’t it?”

Mark doesn’t often think badly of Johnny, because A) they’re cousins, B) Johnny’s technically still his boss, and C) Johnny knows where he lives. But right now, all that crosses Mark’s mind when he thinks of Johnny is an endless stream of expletives. Most of which include the word ‘fuck’ in some way, shape, or form, because seriously, _WHAT THE FUCK_.

“Okay.” Johnny drops back down and looks Mark in the eye. “In my defense, I honestly didn’t think it’d escalate to this point.”

Mark turns to stare at Johnny disbelievingly. “You said this was supposed to be therapeutic for them! A spar! How is that therapeutic?! Especially when they both already can’t stand each other, and—” His eyes catch onto something in Taeyong’s hands, and Mark literally _feels_ the blood drain from his face. “Wait—where the fuck did he even get that grenade?”

“Grenade?!” Johnny turns and sure enough, Taeyong is pulling the pin on one of those ugly avocado bombs and is hurling his arm back to chuck it at Kun. Doyoung and Yuta are running for their lives in the other direction, and Johnny vaults over the bench to body-slam Jaehyun out of the impact zone. 

“EVERYBODY, COVER!”

A body tackles Mark to the ground right as a loud BOOM shakes the dome in its entirety, and Mark feels his ears pop from how loud the explosion is. The body above him is heavy and broad, and a large hand grabs his shoulder, giving him a light shake.

“You good?”

Mark groans and wiggles his fingers in his ears, trying to clear out the high-pitched ringing and uncomfortable pressure. A hazy face comes into view, before that voice is speaking again, sounding a little winded and frantic.

“C’mon, answer me, Mark. You good?”

“You’re not Johnny,” Mark says intelligently, because that’s the only thing his poor traumatized brain can manage at the moment. He looks up, and finds himself staring directly into Yukhei’s large puppy eyes. Heat warms the back of his neck, and Mark has a sinking suspicion it’s not his fight-or-flight response activating.

“Hey, Mark.” Yukhei waves a hand in front of Mark’s face when the latter takes too long to respond. “Are you okay? Seriously, man. Did the grenade blow out your eardrums or—”

Mark claps a hand over Yukhei’s mouth, roughly shoving the taller man off so he can sit up. “God, shut up, Wong. I’m _fine_.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“That’s because you were crushing me, goddammit—”

“Get down!”

Mark barely has time to comprehend what Yukhei just yelled before he’s crushed under the weight of Yukhei’s body again. They’re painfully close together, Yukhei’s arms encircling Mark’s head and his long legs caging in Mark’s body as another explosion booms from behind their cover. Mark can barely breathe with all 143 pounds of man on top of him, but he’s not entirely sure if his lack of respiratory ability is due to this Yukhei-blanket or the sudden rush of blood to his head.

This is dangerous.

“You okay?” Yukhei asks, turning his head slightly to look at Mark.

“Peachy.”

“I’m not hurting you more, am I?”

 _‘Well,’_ Mark thinks, _‘that’s sweet of him to ask.’_

“I can’t breathe.”

Yukhei blinks, shock crossing over his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll just—” He shifts his position to untangle himself from Mark. “Lemme just get—”

“If you raise your head any higher, you’ll probably get shot,” Mark observes, watching as Yukhei’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. He reaches up a hand and pulls Yukhei back down next to him. 

“Okay.” Yukhei pulls out his specialized glasses from his pocket and puts them on. The black frames, paired with his black tracksuit, is a good look on him. Mark thinks that it suits Yukhei a lot better than the stupid oversized sweaters and tattered jeans he usually wears on his off days. And it’s only fitting, because Yukhei’s actual eyesight is shit anyways, so he doesn’t even need to wear his specialized glasses. He can wear his regular glasses and look just as hot and—

Holy shit what is he _thinking_?

 _'Not now, Mark Lee.’_ Mark chides himself. _‘Figure situation out now, gay crisis later.’_

“What do you see?” he asks instead, craning his head up ever so slightly to see Yukhei stare past the bench.

“Good news, no more grenades or guns,” Yukhei replies, slowly pulling himself up. “Bad news, the directors are in a fistfight and people are trying to stop them.”

Mark looks around, and realizes for the first time since that first grenade explosion that Johnny is completely out of his line of sight. “Where’s Johnny?”

“Getting—ooh, that’s gotta hurt—just got punched in the face by Taeyong.”

“He _what_?”

Yukhei turns around and shrugs with a wince. “Maybe we should help.”

 _'Maybe he NEEDS help.’_ Mark rubs the bridge of his nose and stands up. “C’mon, let’s go before Taeyong and Kun band together to murder Johnny instead.”

“Technically, wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Mark straight-up gapes at Yukhei, because is this guy _serious_ ? “How the fuck is that supposed to be a _good_ thing, Wong?”

Yukhei smiles, benevolent and infuriatingly calm. “Well, think about it! They’ll finally be collaborating and agreeing on something!”

Mark is already climbing over the bench and making a mad dash towards the center of commotion. “That’s my fucking cousin they’re gonna murder, fuck you!” he screams back at Yukhei, hurdling over a fallen ramp and leaping over a sizable crater.

So maybe Mark hates Johnny a little bit for endangering everyone’s lives here today by trying to play mediator between Taeyong and Kun.

But if Johnny dies, then there will be NO mediator.

And that’s a whole other shitstorm Mark isn’t ready to deal with yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does one marriage? (o_o)  
> Thanks for reading!! I really hope y'all had fun with this crackfest! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!  
> Hmu w/ any q's or if you'd just like to chat!  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/Cydersyrup)  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/Cydersyrup)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For thou has seen no shitshow worse than an entire horde of highly-trained killers/spies in one room. (>v<)

The look of disappointment on Taeil’s face is so profound that Mark can’t even categorize it in the “normal disappointment” section. The IT director’s one visible eye is drooping sadly, and his lips are pulled taut in a frown as he looks at the gaggle of people in the infirmary. 

_'No,’_ Mark thinks. _‘This is like...mom disappointment. The lowest of the lows.’_ The realization of it only makes his heart sink further, until he can almost feel it touching his intestines. Jeno shoots him a pitying glance as he hands Mark an ice pack for his bruised cheek, before rushing off to attend Doyoung.

Taeil strides up to the three regional directors, who are each sitting on a bed, with Johnny occupying the bed in the middle to prevent any mishaps while they’re getting patched up by Kunhang and Jeno. Both Taeyong and Kun have a patchwork of bandages and gauze covering their skin, some with spots of blood seeping through, and Johnny has the mother of all black eyes and his arm in a brace.

All the active field agents (except Jisung and Donghyuck) are gathered around the area, being treated by the two medics. Doyoung winces as Jeno carefully dabs at a scrape on his cheek with an alcohol pad. On the other side of the room, Kunhang is carefully stitching up Yukhei’s knuckle, the latter biting down on a pen to keep from screaming. Chenle—one of their resident tech geniuses—sits by Yukhei, holding his hand and bawling his eyes out. From the strength of Yukhei's grip or self-appointed guilt, Mark’s not sure. All he knows is that the infirmary is much too cramped for so many people, and that his cheek _really_ hurts.

“Okay,” Taeil sighs, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. “Someone. Anyone. Explain from the top. What exactly the hell happened? Why are the three regional directors here? Why are _all_ of you here? What even caused this?”

Kun and Taeyong turn to glare at each other—or possibly Johnny. Most likely Johnny.

“Well,” Kun starts. “Director Seo here proposed a collaborative double spar for us—” he gestures to himself and Taeyong. “—against Agents Jung and Lee. And well, as you can see, things out a little out of hand.”

“A little?” Taeyong seethes, pointing at the bloody patches of gauze all over his body. “You threw thirty-seven knives at me!”

“And you threw two grenades at me!” Kun snaps back. “Have you any idea how many people could have been injured or killed in the ensuing explosions?”

“My people know well enough how to protect themselves, and I did what I did out of self-defense!”

“You call throwing a grenade at me self-defense?”

“Considering you were trying to make me a human dart board, yes. Yes, I do.”

Kun scoffs. “You say that like you didn’t just pull a gun on me earlier—”

“ _Yuta_ pulled the gun on you!” Taeyong snarls, pointing at said agent. 

“Sir, I didn’t mean you any personal harm,” Yuta says as Kun turns his glare on him. “But if I didn’t at least try to shoot the knives out of your hands, the Chief Director might’ve gotten injured.” He sneaks a glance at Taeyong, wincing at the bandages along the other man’s arms. “Well, more injured, I guess.”

“We were doing our jobs,” Doyoung adds, stepping forward to defend his husband. “It doesn’t matter if the threat is external or internal, protecting the Chief Director is always our top priority. Director Qian would’ve killed him otherwise.”

Sicheng stands up from his chair, holding a wad of tissues against his bloody nose. “And we understand that with the first shot fired, but the second shot was aimed at Kun-ge’s head!”

Yuta doesn’t even bother looking apologetic. “Oopsies.” 

Doyoung gawks at him in shock. “You tried to kill Director Qian?”

“Technically, I was aiming for the hand he was flinging back to hurl more knives with,” Yuta explains. “And I mean, neither shot hit him. The first one ricocheted off a knife—”

“And almost killed me!” Mark complains.

“—and the second shot was blocked by Ten.”

Ten, who has been standing quietly by Kun’s bedside, raises a black baseball bat. The lacquered wood is cracked down the middle with a hole in the barrel, but no exit. “Saw it on Youtube once, didn’t believe it’d actually work until then,” he chirps. “The more we know!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Taeil rubs a hand over his forehead, avoiding the strap of his eyepatch. “So what you’re all telling me is that after Johnny called for a team spar—”

“Against me and Jaehyun,” Mark cuts in. “They beat us pretty bad.”

“Then tried to kill each other,” Jaehyun continues.

“So Yuta and I tried protecting the Chief Director,” Doyoung adds.

“And I fired off a couple shots to stop the knives.”

“The first of which ricocheted and almost went through my head!” 

Ten drops his bat against his palm. “And the second which I blocked.”

“Then Mark told me Taeyong was pulling out grenades—”

“Two grenades, Director Seo. Two.”

“Those were my grenades!” Chenle wails. “I almost killed them all!”

Mark sighs. “Chenle, it’s not your fault.”

Chenle lets out a loud sob. “I designed those grenades to have maximum fragmentation and I even put nerve gases in some of them! I could’ve killed everyone here!”

Taeil’s eye widens impossibly. “You _what_?”

“Fortunately, those were just the regular ones,” Doyoung interrupts, stepping in front of Chenle to spare him from Taeil’s wrath. “Well, we saw the grenade flying and ran for our lives—”

“I yelled for everyone to get cover.”

Doyoung mimics an explosion with his hand. “Then BOOM—”

“Then another BOOM—”

"Then I saw that the directors were getting into a fistfight,” Yukhei quips. “And Director Seo took one to the face.”

Johnny looks affronted. “I was trying to stop them—”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “But that just ended up with all three of you fighting.”

“Then Mark comes flying in out of nowhere—”

“They were going to kill you, what did you want me to do?!”

“And Yukhei came in a second later and tried to pull everyone apart,” Doyoung says. “It didn’t end so well.”

Yuta nods. “We had to get involved.”

“Then someone—” Taeyong points at Kun accusingly. “Decided to grab that ridiculous board Sicheng was holding and hit me with it!”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Sicheng mutters under his breath, his voice coming muffled through the tissues.

“And then a new wave of hell broke loose,” Ten supplies, grinning through his split lip. “And before we knew it, it wasn’t just trying to keep the directors from killing each other.”

“We were _this_ close to killing them ourselves.”

“But by, like, accident, of course.”

“No, we were actually trying to kill them so they’d stop trying to kill each other.”

"Ah yeah, you're right."

“Then Kunhang came in and started screaming.”

“So here we are.”

“Everyone was getting beaten to a pulp!” Kunhang exclaims, holding an armful of ice packs and bandages. “When Yukhei-ge told me things were gonna get ugly I thought he was exaggerating. But no! They really were trying to kill each other!”

Taeil frowns. “The three directors?”

Kunhang makes a vague gesture at the group. “Just—just everyone!” The poor boy looks about two seconds from bursting into tears. “It was insanity, sir! Insanity! Can I please get a raise? I don’t get paid enough for this!”

“Me too?” Jeno raises a hand timidly. “Extracting shrapnel isn’t fun, Director Moon. I tried getting Jaemin to help, but he fainted when I was working on Director Qian.” He points at the unconscious body lying on a bed at the other side of the room.

Taeil heaves a sigh. “Consider it done.” He averts his gaze to the three imbeciles before him. “Now, be honest. Which one of you initiated the conflict? Not the spar, I mean the whole ‘I’m-going-to-kill-you’ thing.”

Taeyong points at Kun. “He belittled my close combat abilities.”

“In which he retaliated with a challenge,” Kun replies. “And I don’t back down from challenges, Director Moon.”

“Then shit went down,” Johnny groans miserably.

Taeil rubs the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Okay, so what I’m hearing is that Taeyong needs anger management classes, Kun needs an attitude check, and Johnny, you need to find someone better to deal with internal relations, because whatever you’re trying is going to shit.”

Mark falls to his knees, clasping his hands towards the ceiling. “Praise the Lord Almighty, someone finally said it!” He’s so happy he honestly thinks he might cry. Taeil has always been a respectable figure within the agency, but at this moment, Mark’s so grateful that he’ll lick the man’s shoes clean if he asked for it.

“It’s not that simple, hyung,” Taeyong says. “You’ve been missing from the field too long. Things happened.”

“What kind of things?”

“That’s personal,” Kun cuts in. “And I am not comfortable sharing it before an audience.”

Taeil’s eye twitches. “Then figure it out on your own time. But starting fights, especially in front of our agents, is unacceptable. I won’t stand for it.”

“Hyung, it’s really not that simple.”

“I don’t care, Taeyong. Please just resolve it so we don’t all have to end up here again. I have mission briefings to complete and systems to maintain! I can’t just have Jisung and Donghyuck barge into my office any time of day and drag me out because all the senior agents and directors are starting shit in the training dome!” He points furiously outside the window. “Have you any idea how far I had to run? My office is on the _other side_ of the premises!”

Kun sighs. “Director Moon, I understand your good intentions, but you really wouldn’t understand our conflict.”

“Kun, I’m not asking to understand, I’m asking you to solve it.”

Johnny sighs. “No offense, hyung, but I think the only way they can do that is over someone’s dead body.”

“That can be arranged.” Taeil’s eye narrows. “You honestly think just because I have one eye left I can’t pick up the nearest gun and shoot you three through the head with one shot?”

Everyone present gulps, including Kunhang and Jeno—poor medics. Taeil’s time as a field agent had been tragically brief, but his reputation as one remains respected to this day. The man was (and to some extent, still is) one of the best snipers the agency has ever seen.

If Taeil wants to pick up a rifle, exit the infirmary, walk to the conference room on the other side of the floor, and shoot Kun, Johnny, and Taeyong through the head in one go, he very well could.

Taeyong, Johnny, and Kun collectively shake their heads, looking like a bunch of scolded toddlers. “No.”

“Good, because I don’t have a gun with me anyways.” Taeil turns to Mark. “Mark, hand me that towel over there.”

Mark retrieves the clean towel from the medical cart behind him and hands it to Taeil. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Taeil turns to the three men before him. “You three, sit on this same bed here. Yes, all of you,” he stresses, turning his eye from Taeyong to Kun. “Sit.”

Kun and Taeyong obediently take a seat on either side of Johnny.

“The rest of you, stand behind me.”

Without a single word of protest, agents and medics alike all scramble into a straight line behind Taeil, shoulder-to-shoulder and watching with anticipation as the eldest director stares down the three men before him.

“What,” Taeil snaps. “Do you three have to say for yourselves?”

Kun and Taeyong turn to each other. Johnny’s eyes dart frantically between both of them.

“If he didn’t—”

“He purposefully provoked—”

“I was only trying to—”

SLAP SLAP SLAP!!!

The towel Mark handed to Taeil flies through his hands in a tight coil, lashing across all three men’s faces in a perfect, picturesque succession. If Mark isn’t so terrified at the moment, he would definitely laugh at how insanely satisfying that hit was.

“You are leaders of one of the world’s greatest intelligence agencies!” Taeil scolds, hands resting firmly on his hips. “I did not retire from field duty to watch those leading it go to shit! You’re supposed to be setting examples for these agents standing behind me! And I’ll tell you what, having public marriage disputes and brawls isn’t it!”

Taeyong rubs at his red cheek. “Hyung, you really don’t understand—”

“I don’t need or want to _understand_ !” Taeil snaps. “I need it _fixed_! I don’t care if you’re the Chief Director of NCT here or if you know 49 ways to kill a man with a shoelace, Taeyong! I want you to sort this out with Kun!”

He turns to Kun. “And you! We’ve been in the field together for years, Kun! You’ve never treated anyone here maliciously before, until you and Taeyong started having problems! God, you’re initially trained in negotiations and strategizing! Get your head out of your ass, put the knives away, and talk it out like I know you can!”

Finally, he stares straight ahead at Johnny. “Johnny! I get that you’re only trying to help, but a spar? Really? With your husband and cousin on the line? Do you hate them that much?”

“Yeah, he does,” Jaehyun and Mark mutter in unison.

“No, I don’t!” Johnny protests. “They have great team dynamics, it made sense!”

“Made sense? You were throwing us into a den with lions!” Mark yells indignantly. “We didn’t even have a say in it!”

“I trusted your capabilities, Mark!”

“You fucking _moron_ I’ve only been in the field for four years, and the directors have been here since forever—”

“You and Jaehyun are some of the most capable agents here, don’t you go questioning my judgement—”

Mark’s face practically glows in anger. “I didn’t do anything to deserve that, Johnny! I’ll judge you all I fucking want—”

"It's not like you even got hurt from the spar!"

"Excuse you, I almost got shot in the head afterwards!"

Johnny stands, matching glares with Mark. "And why're you blaming a stray bullet on me?"

"Because you started this whole thing!"

"This issue has been going on for _years_ , Mark! I only proposed an idea for reconciliation—"

"Well, fuck your ideas and everything—"

“I want a divorce!” Jaehyun suddenly shouts.

Johnny’s face immediately falls, and the entire atmosphere comes crashing down in that split second. Mark’s mouth hangs unhinged in an unfinished sentence, his eyes darting from Jaehyun to Johnny. The shock and heartbreak on Johnny’s face is so raw that even Taeil freezes, and everyone turns to stare at Jaehyun with expressions of varying degrees of shock and concern. Taeyong’s eyes are so wide that they look ready to pop out. Kun’s face is schooled into a careful blankness, but the slight downturn of his lips betrays his facade.

“Jae...baby, you don’t mean that.” Johnny’s voice is quiet and small, his eyes never leaving Jaehyun’s as all the fight drains from him. “You...you don’t mean that.”

In the span of five seconds, three things occur: Jaehyun stalks up to Johnny, snatches the towel out of Taeil’s hands, and slaps Johnny in the face once more with it. The force of it snaps Johnny’s head to the side and leaves a ugly red streak along his cheek.

“Of course I don’t mean it!” Jaehyun’s voice breaks as he yells. “But you know what, Johnny? Fuck you for that, I was so scared!” He drops the towel and points at both Taeyong and Kun, all formalities thrown to the wind. “I don’t care what you do to help in the future but don’t you ever put me in the same arena as these two ever again! Someone could’ve died!”

A collective exhale passes through the room. Kunhang faints and Sicheng and Ten practically run each other over to catch the boy before he hits the ground. Yukhei actually starts crying, blubbering something about how much he “hates seeing a happy couple torn apart”.

 _'Holy shit we just dodged a bullet.’_ Mark tries to calm his pounding heart. _‘One bad marriage is enough. God forbid we have to deal with a divorce too.’_

“Okay, now we’ve settled this,” Taeil says sternly. “I’m taking over duty as Chief Director until you three recover enough physically and figure out your bullshit.”

Taeyong balks. “Hyung, you can’t just—”

“Yes, I can, Taeyong. Article four, page seven, paragraph 5 of NCT’s employment guidebook says in the case the current Chief Director is out of commission, a member of equal position, a direct subordinate of excellent standing, or a member of greater seniority may take charge of their duties until they are fit to resume work.” Taeil’s eye narrows into a sharp slit as he glares. “And I fulfill two of those requirements already. I’m taking over NCT for now, until you sort this out.”

“But hyung—”

“I’m not having you and Kun endanger our agents with your domestic conflicts anymore.”

“Technically Johnny started that—”

“Did I fucking stutter, Taeyong?”

Taeyong entire posture slumps. “No, hyung.”

“Good.” Taeil turns to all the agents behind him. “Thanks for the input, guys. You’re all dismissed. Someone pick up Jaemin and take him back to the development lab. I need a moment alone with the directors.”

“Yes, sir.” Doyoung picks up the unconscious boy and heads out, Yuta following closely behind. The other agents trail after them, and Mark can hear Taeil yelling at the other directors even as he rounds the corner out of the infirmary wing.

God, the rumors are true. Moon Taeil when angered is possibly one of the most terrifying sights to befall mankind. Especially because of how nice he usually is. Mark swears that he’s never even heard the man raise his voice in anger before today. Concern, sure. Fear, definitely. But never anger.

Not until now, that is.

“You alright?” Jaehyun asks, sidling up to Mark and resting a bandaged hand on the younger’s shoulder.

“I’m fine.” Mark turns to Jaehyun, who looks a lot more composed than when he towel-whipped Johnny across the face, but there’s a certain tiredness in Jaehyun’s eyes that worries him. “Are you?”

Jaehyun laughs, the sound a little strained. “I’ll be alright.”

“So you’re not gonna like...actually divorce Johnny, right?” Mark asks. “Like, I know you said it already but for real, hyung.”

“No, no I’m not.” Jaehyun’s lips pull upwards into a slight smile. “I mean, sure I was really pissed he threw us at them and started this whole thing but I love him, Mark. He’s my husband for a reason.”

Mark doesn’t doubt it. He’s rarely ever seen Johnny and Jaehyun argue or fight over anything, and they’ve been married for almost as long as Taeyong and Kun.

“Then how do you guys remain happily married? And Doyoung and Yuta-hyung?” Mark watches Jaehyun’s face, gauging for any sort of reaction. “How come it’s just Taeyong and Kun’s marriage that’s going to shit?”

Jaehyun thinks it over, eyes fixed on something past Mark. After a short silence, he sighs and ruffles Mark’s hair gently.

“Communication, Mark. And patience. Don’t get me wrong, Johnny and I fight too. Sometimes it gets ugly. But we don’t hold grudges against each other, you know?” Jaehyun’s smile is dimpled and bright, and the sight of it makes Mark’s heart swell. “And I think that’s something Taeyong and Kun lacks. They always pick on each other’s flaws and rile each other up. Maybe it’s a grudge, I don’t know. But the sooner they let it go, the better it’ll be for all of us.”

He raises his hand, covered in bandages and bruises painting the pale skin a spectrum of blues and purples. “Then no more of this.” He points at the swelling bruise on Mark’s cheekbone. “Or that. Or knife fights, shootings, and explosions.”

“Please,” Mark prays towards the ceiling. “Please, please, please just let Taeyong and Kun get their shit together. I’m only twenty-one, I’m too young to die. You can let Johnny die, though. He’s turning twenty-eight. He’s old. And he deserves it. But please don’t let them kill me. And please, stop him from having any more stupid ideas. I'm gonna get PTSD. I will.”

Jaehyun watches Mark with resigned fondness, before turning his head towards the infirmary, where Taeil is no doubt still tearing Taeyong, Kun, and Johnny a new one.

“Amen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does one marriage? (o_o)  
> Thanks for reading!! I really hope y'all had fun with this crackfest! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!  
> Hmu w/ any q's or if you'd just like to chat!  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/Cydersyrup)  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/Cydersyrup)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little more serious than the previous ones, but it is what it is (OvO)  
> Hope you enjoy!!

“I don’t want to say I might know what’s wrong with them, but I might know what’s wrong with them.”

Mark glances at the boy standing beside him, before turning his attention back to Taeil. “I’m sorry, sir?”

Renjun frowns and crosses his arms over his sooty jacket. There’s a streak of black over his cheek and strands of hair fly out from under where he had them tucked under his goggles.

“Chief Director Moon, why did you call us here?” Renjun asks, ever so straightforward. “I really don’t trust Jaemin and Chenle alone in the labs with kerosene and a torch, sir. Please let me go back as soon as possible.”

Taeil checks one of the many monitors on his desk. “Isn’t Yukhei there with them?”

“Sir, that’s kind of the point.”

“Right. Well,” Taeil leans back and takes in a breath. “I’ll make this short, then. You’re both aware of operation Black on Black, I presume?”

A more accurate name would be “Near-Death Experience #12”, but Mark decides not to voice that out loud. “Yes, sir.”

Renjun’s frown deepens. “Did something go wrong with the operation that we aren’t aware of?” he asks. “Nobody’s brought that up in years.”

Taeil sighs. “Well, yes and no. But before I proceed further, you both were active agents during the operation, correct?”

Mark and Renjun both nod.

“And I understand you both went through a great deal of trauma during this particular mission,” Taeil continues, face kind and empathetic as he looks over the two young agents before him. “And I’m sure you remember your team leaders from back then.”

Mark frowns, racking his brain for any memory of the personnel involved in the mission. “Well, Renjun and I were both active then, and Doyoung and Yuta-hyung, and—”

“Directors Lee and Qian,” Renjun finishes, eyes blowing wide.

"Yeah, them," Mark agrees.

_'Wait a minute...'_

_Oh._

_Oh NO._

Mark feels tiredness flood his system, his body immediately feeling twice as heavy as the realization dawns on him. “Sir, please don’t tell me whatever happened during that mission led to all of this. It’s ancient history.”

Taeil’s expression is still understanding and a little sad as he beckons both agents closer. “Have a seat, Agent Lee and Agent Huang. I think you both would benefit the most from witnessing this.”

Mark and Renjun obediently sit at the chairs before Taeil’s desk and the Chief Director turns the closest monitor towards them. It’s a video camera footage of their main conference room, and in it, two figures that reminds Mark constantly of how much easier it is for him to die than to stay alive.

Taeil points at the two men on the screen, and says only one word.

“Watch.”

* * *

It comes as a surprise, really.

Taeyong and Kun have been in the same conference room (under Taeil’s digital supervision) for almost ten minutes already, and neither one has made a move to kill the other yet.

Kun sits in a chair at the end of the table, a scab on the corner of his lip and his hands bandaged wrist to knuckles. Taeyong stands a distance away by some dark filing cabinets, bandages plastered all over his hands and one over his cheek as he rummages around the cabinet for something.

“So, _Director_ Lee,” Kun says. “Care to explain our meeting here today?”

“You heard Taeil, Kun. We’re sorting this bullshit out.”

“And how, pray tell, do you suppose we do that?”

Taeyong finds what he’s looking for and promptly throws the files across the table, the papers almost flying out from the folders as they slide towards Kun.

“Operation Black on Black,” Taeyong says curtly as Kun carefully slides the papers out from the files. “Three years ago, we sent our best agents on an undercover mission in Hong Kong to take down a notorious human trafficking empire.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Kun murmurs, spreading the documents over the table. “It was our last cooperative agency mission.”

“All branches were involved directly.” Taeyong sits across from Kun, a grave frown marring his features and accentuating the scar over his eyebrow. “Johnny headed the communications. You and I were leading the field agents in an infiltration and raid.”

Something dark flashes through Kun’s eyes but it’s gone as soon as it appears. The documents before him are all pictures and few words. There’s a picture of Mark, Yuta, Doyoung, and many more of the more senior agents. A photo of Taeyong himself sits at the top of the spread. Kun traces over the paper carefully, taking in the soft lines of Taeyong’s face, the unmarred skin, the head of fiery red hair, and the platinum band on his finger.

So, so different from the man standing before him now, hair white as fresh snow and delicate features hardened by trauma and bloodshed. That finger which once proudly bore a beautiful ring is now bare and scarred with a long white line straight down the center.

“We stopped the trafficking ring they were running there,” Kun chooses to recall instead, turning his attention away from Taeyong and focusing on the papers before him. “It was a two-month mission. Every measure was taken to ensure full undercover success.”

Taeyong scoffs. “Success? You jumped ship on me, Kun. Me and the other agents. Or did you conveniently forget that part?”

Kun looks up, staring into Taeyong’s eyes, so full of anger and betrayal and raw hurt. The words come from his heart but get stuck in his throat, and for a moment Kun can’t bring himself to spit them all out.

So he chooses to say nothing at all.

“You left me behind,” Taeyong repeats, his voice breaking as he looks down at Kun. “You knew there were explosives inside the building and you knew that everyone was in danger. But you chose to run away and let us all get buried under the rubble.”

“There was still work to be done,” Kun manages. “I had a lead in my territory. I couldn’t afford to lose it.”

“But you could afford to lose me.” Taeyong’s eyes are haunted and glossy. “You saw hell break loose in that room and when I looked towards you for help, you just—” he breaks off in a scoff, turning his head away so Kun can’t see the tears slip down his face. “—you just let me go.”

The images come back in quick flashes, clear as the day he experienced it. Taeyong can see the magnificent mansion, the splendor, the people, the auction, then—chaos. He can hear the loud booms and screams of terrified people. Gunshots and explosions plague his memory, mixed with Renjun’s screams and Mark yelling into Taeyong’s earpiece, trying to find them both.

And there Taeyong was—pinned between a piano and the wall, blood dripping down his face and scrambling out from the debris to find the two junior agents. He remembers pulling Mark out from a collapsed portion of the wall, the boy shaken and bleeding but able to stand, and finding Renjun, unconscious under a fallen grandfather clock.

“You knew and you left,” Taeyong hisses, venom coating every word. “How can you do that?”

“I had faith you would come back, Taeyong.” Kun’s stare is resolute and honest. “That’s the only reason I would even consider leaving you alone.”

“I wasn’t alone!” Taeyong snaps. “There were other people with me! Mark! Renjun! I know how to escape a situation with bombs, but what about them?”

“From what we see today, they’re both still active agents,” Kun says coolly. “You should really have more faith in your people, if you’re that worried about them.”

“They were boys!” Taeyong’s voice rises dramatically as he whirls around and snatches two photos off the table. “Seventeen, eighteen years old! You think they look fine now but have you any idea what you put us all through?”

“I can understand the trauma.”

“No, you can’t! You have no idea what I went through to dig out Mark and Renjun,” Taeyong snarls. “You think these scars on my face popped up by themselves?”

“I would reckon not.”

“Did you not care if we all lost our lives?”

Kun arches a brow, face impassive. “I’m sure the circumstances wouldn’t have allowed for that.”

“Oh my god, I’m married to a sociopath.” Taeyong clutches at his hair with both hands, crinkling the papers against his head. “See, this is why I can’t stand you, Kun! You don’t understand! All you see is the objective and never the people! How the hell did you even become a director?”

“With hard work,” Kun replies without missing a beat. “And contrary to what you might think, I’m not a sociopath. I care about people, and my agents never fail a mission on my watch.”

“Really? Because Black on Black is currently going down as the worst failed mission in the history of NCT—”

“It did not fail,” Kun insists, gaze hardening. “We found the leader of the organization and the main auction house. We freed thousands of people with the information we got from their databases. None of our agents died.”

“We almost did!” Taeyong slams his hand down on Renjun’s picture. “We trusted you, Kun! Me, Mark, Renjun, everyone! But you couldn’t care enough about us over your own ambitions. If that isn’t the greatest agency failure I’ve ever seen in my career—”

“I was doing my job—”

“As an agent!” Taeyong cries, unable to hold back the angry tears that welled in his eyes. “But what about me? Did I just stop mattering to you? Was a promotion within the agency really more important than whether I lived or died? I’m your _husband_!”

Kun stands, posture rigid as he stares Taeyong in the eyes. “It’s not like you were any different, Taeyong. I made sure you and the others were far away from the epicenter of the explosion. As far away as possible without arousing suspicion. In that sense, I saved you. How can you say I don’t care?”

“You didn’t!” Taeyong snaps. “You came back a different man, Kun. You’re not the man I fell in love with all those years ago. All you saw was missions and work and success. You didn’t have time for me anymore. You forgot about us.”

Taeyong’s glare is harsh and unforgiving as he meets the other man’s eyes. “And hell hath no fury like a broken heart, Kun.”

“Is that why you tried to murder me for a year afterwards?” Kun asks, expression never changing. “Because I have ambitions?”

“Because you were an arrogant, selfish _asshole_ , that’s why!” 

“And that warrants me having to sleep with a gun under my pillow because you almost slit my throat on several occasions?”

“Maybe you deserve it!” Taeyong yells. “How can you do that to me? How can you leave me and two boys to get blown up, never mention a word of it, and just abandon me for work? I called, I texted, and you never answered! You never came home, you gave up on me—on this whole godforsaken marriage!”

“Speak for yourself,” Kun growls back, his carefully-constructed facade of calm slowly dissipating. “You climbed up the ranks pretty high and pretty fast after that encounter.”

“I had my work done already to show for it,” Taeyong snarls back. “And I didn’t even have to disappear and try to prove something of myself.”

Kun rolls his eyes. “Of course, because the great Lee Taeyong never makes any mistakes in his life.”

“I make plenty of mistakes!” Taeyong retorts. “But I can admit them, Kun. Operation Cherry Bomb? Yes, I underestimated our opponent and paid dearly for it. The Limitless raid that cost Taeil his career as a field agent? That was my mistake. It was all on me, and I accept that. But when’s the last time you ever said sorry?”

“Yesterday, when I bumped into Sicheng on the way to get coffee,” Kun retorts coolly.

“Oh, great.” Taeyong raises his hands mockingly. “Say sorry to your subordinate over a shoulder bump but completely ignore and try to murder your husband for the last three years. I see how it is.”

Kun’s eyes narrow dangerously. “It’s not my problem that you always have to initiate conflict, Taeyong.”

“And would it kill you to just shut up then?” Taeyong snaps back. “All you ever have to say to me since that fiasco is criticism and insults! You think I’m just gonna stand here and take it?”

“It’s not exactly easy to compliment someone who has broken into your house in _China_ and tried to slit your throat when you’re sleeping.”

Rage burns inside Taeyong, hot and heavy, and with it, something broken and despairing surfaces. For what might be the longest minute of his life, Taeyong loses all filtering abilities between his heart, his mind, and his mouth. The need to get the words out is too strong, outweighing all logic and reasoning.

“Even if you didn’t stop me then, you honestly think I would be fully capable of just cutting open my own husband’s throat and watch him bleed out?” Taeyong shouts, shoving Kun backwards roughly. “Sure, I stuck a knife under your throat but when did you ever feel me cut into you?”

Kun blinks, recalling the incident. “I do believe you have—”

“I never have! I never did!” Taeyong is just under hysterical at this point. “Those incidents, the arguments, those grenades I threw, all of them I knew you could’ve dodged without dying! You honestly think if I want you dead for real I wouldn’t have murdered you a lot more easily by this point?”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Taeyong raises a fist, but instead of lashing it across Kun’s face like the latter expects, he thuds it weakly against Kun’s chest, letting out a loud sob as he does so.

“Because I love you, you fucking bastard,” Taeyong weeps, crying so hard he could barely breathe. “I don’t care if you don’t love me anymore, but fuck it, I could never stop loving you. And you tried to kill me for real.”

“You and I both know you can evade the knives I throw as easily as you breathe, Taeyong.”

“Tell that to the thirteen stitches I got!” Taeyong throws his hands up in frustration. “Goddamn it, Kun, I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of waiting for things to be alright again because they’re obviously not ever going to be! I’m tired of playing into your little games.”

Kun blinks, a glare breaking through his mask of calm. “It takes two to play a game, Taeyong. You hated me.”

“I do! I hated you for a long time, but goddamn it, every time I see your face, hear your fucking voice, all I can think—” Taeyong breaks off, wiping his hands against his eyes. “—all I can think about is the Kun I promised to love for the rest of my life.”

Kun watches as Taeyong slowly lowers his hands from his teary eyes, and feels something inside him clench painfully.

“And you don’t even love me anymore.” Taeyong’s voice is quiet and defeated. “So there, you have it, Kun. Are you fucking happy now?” 

“Happy? No.” Kun’s face is sad, the emotion more sincere than anything he’s shown Taeyong for the last couple years. He’s been driven by nothing but the need to achieve for so long, it’s almost foreign to experience such a vulnerable emotion like sadness anymore. But the feeling is there—real, raw, and reflected on Taeyong’s face and scars.

“How can I be happy,” Kun continues, “when the only person I loved in my life honestly thinks that I no longer love them?”

“Do you really mean that?” Taeyong’s voice is scornful, but a hint of hope lingers under the bitter tone. “Or are you just saying that so we can end this conversation and just pretend that nothing ever happened?”

Kun inhales deeply, willing down any urges to argue against Taeyong and just say what he needs to say. 

“I mean it.” Those words come from the heart, holding all the weight Kun didn’t know he was carrying inside this whole time. “I give up. You win, Taeyong. I was wrong. I admit that, and I’m sorry.” He steps forward and looks Taeyong in the eyes, the gaze without any of the previous judgement or contempt.

“I’m sorry. My actions took its toll on you and landed us both into this mess.” Kun hangs his head slightly. “I tore us apart because I was so absorbed in my work. I broke your heart and I never even thought twice about how you may feel.”

“Fat load of good that did us, huh?” Taeyong’s hand comes up to gently cup Kun’s face. He half-expects the other to flinch away or even stop him altogether, but Kun stands still, making no move to get away. “So much time wasted, Kun. So much hate and blood shed. So many nasty words we exchanged and punches thrown. And for what? You were so selfish..." He pauses, thinking his next words through. "...and so was I."

Kun's gaze averts from Taeyong's, unable to bear the weight of it anymore. “I apologize, Taeyong. I really am sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Taeyong pulls Kun closer by the lapels, until they’re standing face-to-face. This is the closest he’s been to his husband in three years, and Taeyong can feel everything they’ve missed resonate in the tiny gap between them. 

“If you’re really sorry,” he whispers against Kun’s lips. “Then prove it.”

Kun leans forward, and the gap between them closes. Taeyong lets himself drown in the kiss, feeling Kun’s body under his fingers and pulling him even closer. With a tilt of his head, the kiss deepens, and waves of emotions roll over Taeyong—sorrow, love, longing, and hunger. 

So when Kun boldly tugs at his jacket, Taeyong is more than happy to let it drop to the floor, followed by his tie and a couple seconds later, both of their shirts. 

It’s been three years since Taeyong allowed himself to be loved.

Three years to have the love of his life back in his arms.

Three years to cease all hate and bloodshed.

And if Taeyong isn’t going to finally take what has always been his, then that would be pure stupidity. So he lets Kun guide them both onto the flat surface of the table, and takes it all.

Taeyong takes and takes and takes.

Kun gives and gives and gives.

And in this moment, nothing else matters besides the feeling of being loved. Of being loved wholly and completely and truly. No more hiding away. No more pretending to be okay. No more hating just because they were hurting.

Just love.

Right here, right now.

Consequences be damned.

* * *

“This is debauchery!” Renjun shrieks, bringing his hands to his eyes and turning away. “Oh my god, how can I look either one of them in the face now?”

Mark swallows back the bile that almost pushes out of his throat and averts his gaze from the monitor. There’s absolutely no way he can ever walk into a conference room without having war flashbacks now. Everything’s been tainted. 

Taeil calmly moves his eyepatch from one eye to the other. 

“So, apologies that we all had the displeasure of witnessing the last event,” he says as he deftly turns off the device. “But now I think we can all gain some closure.”

Mark stares at the blind man incredulously. "Closure? Sir, I don't mean to question your methods but this—"

“I’m only twenty!” Renjun howls. “My innocence has been ruined!”

Mark scrunches up his face in both disgust and confusion. “Injunnie, you have like, the highest kill count of the agency.”

“Blowing things up and shooting a machine gun has nothing on this!” Renjun begins to walk towards the door and runs straight into a potted plant. “Oof." He tries again, and hits a bookshelf. "Ow. Where’s the fucking door?”

Mark sighs. “Why don’t you just take your hands off your eyes?”

“Because,” Renjun grunts as he turns and hits a wall instead. “I need to preserve them so I can pour acid onto them when I get back into the lab.” He runs into the opposite wall before finally finding the door handle. “I need to ask Chenle if he can invent a memory-erasing device, oh _god_.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka Mark's near-death experience #???

Turns out, Renjun’s idea for the memory-erasing device he wanted Chenle to invent might not be such a bad idea after all.

“For the love of god, can I _please_ get some coffee?” Mark groans, standing awkwardly before the two people in front of the coffee machine, holding his mug in one hand and wanting nothing more than to just drop dead. 

At the ripe old age of twenty-one years, six months, and two days, Mark wants to just have a heart attack and die. He’s been prepared. He wouldn’t mind just dying right now.

Why?

Because there are two people making out between him and the beautiful, beautiful brown bean juice of life. It wouldn’t be so bad if it's anyone else, because Mark’s walked in on all sorts of PDA before, but it just so happens that the people making out in front of the coffee machine are Taeyong and Kun. Mark's _bosses_.

“Uh, excuse me,” Mark tries again. It’s so hard to be polite when he’s sleep-deprived and disgusted to the point of wanting to tear his hair out. Seeing two grown men making out like they’re two seconds away from having sex in the open also isn't really helping his current mood. “Directors Lee and Qian, may I _please_ get to the coffee machine? _Please_?”

“Oh! Of course, sorry!” Taeyong’s face is flushed red as he breaks away to make eye contact with Mark. Kun smirks as he bids Mark goodbye and leads Taeyong away from the rest lounge. 

“Have a good day, Agent Lee.”

Mark nods robotically. “Thank you. You too, sirs.”

Once the door closes behind the two directors, Mark completely forgoes the mug and grabs the entire pot of coffee, bringing it with him to the table where a couple other agents are sitting, looking equally disturbed.

“Coffee?” he asks curtly, plopping down on the open chair next to Jaehyun.

“Sure.” Doyoung, Jaemin, and Jaehyun all extend their mugs, and Mark tops them off before flipping the lid and chugging down the leftovers straight from the pot. The barely-hot, bitter liquid burns the back of his throat and almost makes him gag. Mark usually prefers his coffee a little cooler with plenty of milk and sugar, but he is stressed, and gross coffee is better than no coffee at all, so who is he to complain?

“Rough day?” Jaehyun asks sympathetically, watching as Mark drains a half-pot of coffee in less than seven seconds. “You look like death, Mark.”

Mark sets the coffee pot down with a thunk and grips his face. “Hyung, if I have to see those two make out—or worse—one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Get used to it, kid.” Doyoung sips his coffee leisurely. “It’s still a hell of a lot better than when they tried to kill each other.”

Mark doesn’t know whether to agree to that or not, because there’s pros and cons to both. And neither choice seems to have enough pros to balance out the cons.

“Is there a way to erase short-term memory?” he asks instead, eyeing Jaemin across the table. “Any way at all?”

“Besides cognitive therapies?” Jaemin’s mouth pulls into a slight frown. “The only thing I can think of is electric shock therapy or a concussion. I mean, we can try using neurobots, but one wrong move and you’ll end up forgetting your own name and face, too.” 

“Great.” Mark drops his head onto the table and reaches blindly for Jaehyun’s hand. He finds it, and places the older man’s palm onto the back of his head. Jaehyun takes the hint, and begins stroking Mark’s hair gently.

“My eyesight has been tainted. Ruined,” Mark groans. “You have no idea what I walked in on yesterday.”

Doyoung sets down his mug. “Do tell.”

“Don’t go into the Special Equipment room on the third floor,” Mark mumbles against the wood. “If you have to, at least bring some disinfecting wipes or something. Oh, and don’t touch any of the portable shock nets.”

Jaemin cocks an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Well...y’know how their casings are like that long,” Mark puts his hands about a foot apart, “and like...kinda thick?”

“Okay, you can stop there,” Jaemin squeaks, face starting to turn red.

“I’m not done. Don’t go into the recreation room on the fourth floor either.” Mark shudders as a particularly unpleasant memory comes back to haunt him. “Whatever you do, don’t touch the fucking pool table.”

Now it’s Doyoung’s turn to be confused. “We play pool every Friday night, Mark. It’s tradition.”

Mark groans, hands coming up to clutch at his head. “Hyung, I mean no disrespect, but fuck pool. You don’t know where those balls have been.”

“Where could they possibly be besides on the table, Mark?”

“Wanna guess?”

Doyoung’s eyes widen comically as the realization dawns on him. “Oh, _hell_ no.”

Jaehyun’s face scrunches in disgust. Jaemin visibly shrinks in his seat, pressing against the back of the chair so hard it looks like he’s trying to melt into the plastic.

 _‘Honestly,’_ Mark thinks. _‘Same.’_

“Well, pool is overrated anyways.” Doyoung gulps down what’s left of his coffee and stands up. “Is there anything else I should be aware not to touch? I need to get my gear for a mission.”

“I don’t know, hyung. If it’s flat and can support weight, don’t touch it.”

“Disgusting,” Doyoung sniffs and walks away. Jaemin peeks at Mark through his fingers, watching as the older boy repeatedly bangs his forehead against the table until Jaehyun stretches out a palm to cushion the impact.

“Why me? Why why why why why why why…”

“Hyung?” Jaemin asks tentatively.

“Which one?” Mark and Jaehyun chorus.

“Mark,” Jaemin clarifies. “Hyung, if you really need a way to forget whatever you saw—which I totally understand—I might actually have a way.”

“Will it kill me?” Mark mumbles, face pressed flat into Jaehyun’s hand.

“No. But,” Jaemin leans forward and grins. “Lele and I have been working on this aerial maneuvering gear down in the lab, and if you want a distraction, it might help? It’s amazing. Like, imagine you jumping out a window again, but basically becoming spiderman.”

“And how many times has this thing been tested?”

“A couple times. Lele and I both tried it, and we tested it out with some other people too. It works like a charm!” Jaemin beams, reaching forward to take one of Mark’s hands. “C’mon, hyung. Let’s just forget whatever the hell you saw and have some fun.”

“The last time you said that, I got an eyebrow burnt off.”

Jaehyun snorts and doesn’t even bother to hide his grin when Mark turns to glare at him. “I remember that.”

“Hyung!”

“What? It was funny, you can’t deny that.”

“God, you’re as bad as Johnny.” Mark slips out from Jaehyun’s hold and grabs the empty coffee pot. “Alright, fine. Let’s try this contraption of yours, Jaemin. So long as I can wipe the last four hours from my brain, I’m down.”

Jaemin grins. “Deal.”

Jaehyun watches the two younger agents uncertainly. “You sure it’s completely safe, Jaemin?”

“Oh, yes!” Jaemin flashes Jaehyun a million-dollar grin and begins pulling Mark away by the arm. “Trust me, it’s completely foolproof. I mean, Yukhei used it and lived.”

He’s got a solid point there, Mark will give him that. “Don’t worry about me, hyung. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Don’t you worry!” Jaemin beams. “You’ll get your cute little cousin-in-law back safe and sound! I’ll make sure nothing happens to him!” He turns to Mark, giving him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. “Don’t stress, Mark-hyung. You’re in good hands with me.”

* * *

Jaemin is a fucking _liar_. 

A liar who graduated MIT at the age of 16 and has an IQ almost as high as Chenle’s daily allowance, but a liar, all the same.

“SOMEONE GET ME THE FUCK DOWN!” Mark screams as he swings past a climbing pillar, hanging only by the ultra-thin cables bound to his ankles and waist. There’s a high-pitched twang as another cable snaps, and Mark feels his body jerk dangerously, before falling completely upside-down.

Oh, he’s going to _murder_ Jaemin for this.

“JAEMIN!”

“Hyung, I’m trying!” Jaemin yells back as he runs after Mark, a tablet clutched in one hand and the other pressing against his headset. “Don’t panic! The cables should be able to hold your weight until the momentum stops!”

There’s another sharp twang, and Mark’s left leg comes loose, hanging in the air like the rest of him. The motion only makes him swing faster, around and around the pillar like some kind of human carousel.

“NA JAEMIN I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Mark shrieks as he barely dodges a protruding bit of rock from an adjacent pillar. “Get me down! Get me down NOW!”

Jaemin jumps up and down in frustration, typing furiously on his tablet. “Would you just hold still for a second, hyung? I’m TRYING!”

Oh, _hold still_. That’s cute. As if Mark isn’t just hanging here by one leg casually being spun at fifteen miles an hour around a big chunk of man-made climbing rock.

Chenle comes running out of nowhere, hair standing straight up like he’s just been electrocuted, waving a metal pipe and screaming at the top of his lungs.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Jaemin screams back, still tapping at his tablet. “We just gotta—oh, hello. Can you direct me to Director Seo’s office here, please? Thank you—we just gotta find a way to at least cushion his fall!”

Great. Maybe Mark will get his earlier wish after all. He’s really going to die here in the development lab at the hands of a bunch of tech-savvy morons.

“It worked fine with Yukhei yesterday, what did you do?” Chenle demands, snatching the tablet from Jaemin’s hands and looking over it himself.

“I don’t know! I used the same harness, the same cables, the same site too!”

“Did you replace the alloy coating and flexi-fiber cores of each cable?”

“Yeah, I did!”

“What about the consideration of different mass and tension when fitting the cables?”

“That too!”

“Did you cross-hook the cables to the harness into the double-overlock pattern?”

“Ah.” Jaemin sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Shit.”

Chenle smacks Jaemin upside the head with the tablet. “You fucking IDIOT!”

“You read my mind, Lele!” Mark shouts, feeling all the blood flood to his head as he spins. “Now somebody get me down!”

“Don’t worry, hyung! We got you!” Chenle tucks the tablet under his arm and runs back out of sight. 

Jaemin is pacing furiously, hands against his headset and speaking so fast his words begin to blur together.

“Hi, Director Seo? It’s Jaemin. Yes, I’m doing fine, thanks. Listen, I have a situation with Mark-hyung right now—”

“You tell him you’re trying to kill me, Jaemin!” Mark yells.

“—yeah, as you can tell, he’s very upset. What? No, I didn’t do anything—”

“BULLSHIT!”

“—okay, I might’ve done something. Point is, can you come down to the development lab as soon as possible to help us? Thanks, sir.” Jaemin turns to Mark, waving his hands frantically. “Don’t worry, hyung! Help’s on the way!”

“Na Jaemin, I swear to god—”

“What’s going on here?” Yukhei runs into view, wrapped in a full-body suspension harness. “I can’t even get parachuting simulations done without hearing—” he pauses, watching Mark swing round and round the pillar. “Mark?”

“What?” Mark snaps.

Yukhei gestures to the scene before him, brows knitted in confusion. “Dude...what are you _doing_?”

Mark barks out a laugh. “At the moment? Listening to the blood rushing to my head along with every method I can snap Jaemin’s neck once I get my hands on him.”

“Sounds fun,” Yukhei replies good-naturedly, ignoring the obvious flinch from Jaemin. “So uh, you need some help there?”

“No, I’m perfectly content to just be a human windmill and gain a cerebral hemorrhage from it, thanks!” Mark shouts, doing his best to glare at Jaemin through his state of constant motion. Thank god he doesn’t suffer motion sickness. That would just make this whole shitshow ten times more humiliating than it already is.

“A ‘yes’ would’ve been fine, y’know.” Yukhei steps closer and glances up. “Hey, don’t worry if you fall, alright? I’ll catch you.”

“How reassuring, Wong.” If Mark could stop long spinning around enough to face Yukhei, he’d raise a middle finger at him.

A loud bang resonates through the room, and the sound of footsteps follow. Johnny appears, his shirt sleeves rolled up and eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. 

“Markie!” he exclaims.

“Hi, asshole who almost got me killed,” Mark greets back.

Johnny chuckles, the sound fond and not helping in the slightest. “That was a month ago, Markie. Let it rest.”

“Never.”

“So I take it you don’t need help getting down, then?”

If Mark had a gun with him, he would definitely take the chance to shoot at Johnny. “Oh, fuck you, Johnny Seo. Get me down from here.”

Another wire snaps, and Mark screams as he plunges a good three meters down, the cables now barely holding his weight as he spins.

“Mark!” Yukhei, Johnny, and Jaemin all rush forward, standing around the pillar. “Hold on, okay?”

“DO I EVEN HAVE A CHOICE?!”

“Hyung!” Chenle comes running back into the test chambers, holding what looks like a folded futon in his arms. “I got something that might cushion his fall! Oh, hi Director Seo!”

“Hello, Chenle.” Johnny takes the futon from the boy’s arms and unfurls it. “So, how do we stop him from spinning?”

Jaemin looks up. “Well, he’s got to be at least six meters off the ground, and good news, he’s spinning a lot slower than when you first arrived.”

“But how do we get him down without killing him?”

Chenle points at the pillar behind Mark. “Someone can try climbing that and grabbing his arm. The cables won’t last much longer, one strong pull should get him free.”

Yukhei frowns. “Won’t both people go down, then?”

“Not if the second person’s in full harness and there’s belayers holding their weight with the ropes,” Chenle observes, eyes shifting towards Yukhei.

The others seem to have the same idea, and in the next second, there’s three pairs of eyes on Yukhei, watching him expectantly. Yukhei blinks at the attention, before looking down at himself and letting out a loud sigh.

“Guess it’s gotta be somebody. Where’s the ropes?” He makes his way over to the climbing pillar behind Mark, the others following closely behind. Jaemin brings over the climbing ropes and helps Chenle hook the rope to the front of Yukhei’s harness.

“Director Seo, if Mark-hyung happens to fall, can you catch him?” Chenle asks, pulling on the thick rope to test its durability.

“No problem, Chenle.”

“Alright.” Chenle shoves Yukhei towards the wall. “Off you go! Make sure you grab him by the arm, alright?” He turns to Mark. “Hyung! When Yukhei-hyung tries to grab you, grab onto him with both hands!”

“Why both hands?” Mark yells.

Chenle cups his hands around his mouth. “You wanna dislocate your shoulder too while you’re at it?” he shouts.

“No!”

“Then don’t ask stupid questions, hyung!”

Yukhei moves quickly, scaling the pillar with practiced ease as Chenle and Jaemin belay him from below, and Johnny stands directly under Mark with the futon, just in case. Mark’s swinging has now slowed to a manageable pace, where he can now see the people he passes by once in every five seconds instead of just a blur of people-shaped objects.

“Mark!” Yukhei calls, pulling himself on level with the swinging boy and stretching out a hand. “Grab my hand!”

Mark reaches out as he approaches Yukhei, and feels the wires around his ankle tighten dangerously. He misses, and goes another round about the pillar. “Shit!”

“C’mon, just take my hand!”

“I’m trying!” Mark sees Yukhei again and stretches out as far as he can, feeling the tension of the wires increase to the point of near-snapping. His fingers barely brushes Yukhei’s palm before another wire gives out, and Mark drops another half-meter down.

“Mark!”

“Oh my god, I wanna go home!” Mark wails. “Why is it always me?”

“Don’t worry, I got you!” Yukhei lowers himself to face Mark directly. “Just take my hand! You won’t fall!”

“You don’t know that, Wong!”

“No, but it’s the thought that counts!” Yukhei fixes his feet against the crevices of the pillar and stretches his hands out as far as he can reach. “C’mon, Mark! Grab me!”

Mark tries again, using his momentum to push his weight towards Yukhei with his arms outstretched. Their hands meet, and Yukhei immediately pulls Mark towards him, snapping the last of the cables. Their chests collide, and Mark barely has time to register the impact before Yukhei’s arms wrap securely around his waist, holding him close.

“I told you I’d catch you, Lee,” he says with a smug grin. “Looks like you really _fell_ for me, huh?”

Mark blinks the black spots from his eyes and shoots Yukhei an unamused glare for the dumb pun. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Wong.”

Yukhei’s smile is broad and positively blinding. “I’d appreciate a thank you, but that’ll do.”

Mark tells himself the heat flushing his face is from all the blood that rushed to his head while he was upside-down. “Thanks, I guess,” he mutters, feeling Yukhei’s hands gently rub comforting circles over his back. The sensation is pleasant and Mark would be lying if he says that he wants Yukhei to stop.

“YES!” Chenle hollers, turning and giving Jaemin a high-five as they slowly lower Yukhei and Mark down. “We did it!”

“And nobody died!” Johnny adds. “How’re you doing, Markie?”

Mark detaches himself from Yukhei before his eyes land on Jaemin, who yelps and immediately scurries behind Johnny. “I’ve been better.”

“No hard feelings?” Jaemin offers, flinching when Mark’s eyes narrow at him. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it?”

Chenle and Yukhei both blink in confusion. “What worked?”

“Well, Mark-hyung saw Directors Lee and Qian—”

“Stop! Nothing worked!” Mark cuts in, before pointing at Jaemin. “Move aside, Johnny. I have a brat to murder.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Johnny grabs Mark’s wrists as the younger strides forward to throttle Jaemin. “Chill, Mark. No more trying to kill people. Just take it easy and go home, alright?”

“Yeah, hyung. Listen to Director Seo,” Jaemin says, eyes twinkling with mischief. The sight of him makes Mark want nothing more than to just go over and rip Jaemin a new one.

“I’m about to head home,” Yukhei offers with a disarming smile. “I can walk you out.”

Mark turns away from everyone, half out of spite and half just to avoid looking Yukhei in the eyes. “No, thanks. I still have work to do.” 

“Be careful, hyung!” Jaemin calls, waving after Mark. “Sorry about almost killing you, but we still don’t have a memory-erasing device yet!”

“Fuck you, I hope you walk in on them next!” Mark hollers back, before slamming the doors closed.

  
  


* * *

If he had a dollar for every unfortunate incident he’s involved in, Mark can probably pay one month’s worth of rent, no problem. There’s a small whiteboard in his apartment that reads in big, all-caps, red marker: MARK’S NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES, with a steady line of tallies underneath.

Mark enters through the door, kicks it shut behind him, and staggers over to the board by the television. He picks up the marker, draws another tally onto the ever-growing list, and all but throws the marker back in place.

Lord, does he hate his life sometimes.

“That’s some shitty luck, ain’t it?”

“JESUS CHRIST!” Mark whirls around, a penknife at the ready to stab someone. Yukhei stands a safe distance away, hands raised to show that he’s unarmed, with the biggest, stupidest smile on his face.

“What got you so riled up, tiger?” he jokes, laughing as Mark grumbles a curse and puts the knife away. “Here I am waiting for you without burning the house down and that’s the hello I get?”

“Shut your face, Wong.” Mark tosses his bag carelessly onto the floor and sheds his jacket. “You know what happened to me.”

“Of course,” Yukhei purrs, striding forward and wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist. “I saved your life.”

Mark hums noncommittally but doesn’t deny it. “Thanks.”

“So cold,” Yukhei whines. He's making those large puppy eyes that Mark can’t stand looking at for too long, because he's a weak man. “We barely see each other outside because of missions and work. Now I’m finally back here, and you won’t even pay attention to me.”

“After I just went through Near-Death Experience #286 today, I’m tired.” Mark reaches up a hand and pats Yukhei’s cheek. “But thanks. Really.”

Yukhei grins again before puckering his lips, and Mark gives in, pressing their lips together chastely. It’s nothing too suggestive, just a reminder that he loves the man standing before him, and the feeling of having him here is arguably the best thing that has happened to Mark in the last month. Sometimes he gets so caught up in work and trying not to die that he forgets that Yukhei is someone more than another face he sees around the office or behind the barrel of a gun. 

They break apart after a short while, and Yukhei looks so happy that Mark can’t help but to smile back in return.

“My knight in shining armor.”

Yukhei bows dramatically. “The name’s Wong. Yukhei Wong.” He straightens up and gestures to the kitchen. “Shall we, Mr. Acrobat?”

“Might I remind you I know how to snap someone’s neck in nine different ways?” Mark grouches, but there’s no real bite to his voice as he pushes past Yukhei and heads into the kitchen. 

“Oh, I know.” Yukhei follows along obediently, a positively shit-eating grin on his face. “But you don’t see a board with ‘Yukhei’s Near-Death Experiences’ written on it, now do you?”

“Not _yet_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride whooooo (>v<)  
> Thanks for sticking along with the crackfest!! I have decided to make this a part of a series, so there will be more to come from this au.  
> Hope y'all enjoyed this!  
> Until then!!

**Author's Note:**

> How does one marriage? (o_o)  
> Thanks for reading!! I really hope y'all had fun with this crackfest! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!  
> Hmu w/ any q's or if you'd just like to chat!  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/Cydersyrup)  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/Cydersyrup)


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